An Untraditional Demi God
by Prewritesuccession
Summary: Ariadne is an orphan who always seems to stumble into strange circumstances. A trip to New York brings more than she bargains for and the possibility for a new life and even the cloudy identities of her parents. More chapters to come. Please leave advice and feedback in the comments!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was a hot, hot day when they found me and took me away. I had been sitting outside underneath the dining hall window among the wild bushes that grew, untamed all around the orphanage. Sweat dripped off of my face, but I would rather be alone here than ignored in there. I sniffed.

"Those rumors aren't true, dear," Mistress had told me with fake sympathy in her voice. "Don't mind them nothing." I had nodded, smiling, telling her everything she wanted to hear until she patted my hand absentmindedly and continued making lunches. I crept out the back, skirting the wall and finding my way deep into the bushes to hide and think. But mostly to hide.

I knew what the others said was fake. But even though I knew how stupid and impossible it was, I couldn't shake the vague feeling that they were right. I still remember the first time.

I was seven, itching to impress the other girls in my room. I told them fantastic stories and legends I didn't even know I knew. They seemed entranced and asked me for more. I had smiled big in triumph. But it didn't last.

One of the older girls in my room, Belia laughed at my stories and cried, "How cute! This little girl thinks these stories are true!" Soon, others, frightened of Belia, joined with her in laughter, making my cheeks flush in anger and embarrassment. Her slender hand rested on the bedside table, where a single light bulb flickered through a beaten lamp-shade. My ears pounded.

A hollow part of my chest tore open and filled with my anger, my bitterness at being so close to fitting in and making a friend. There was a loud _pop!_ and the girls stopped laughing. Several screamed in alarm. The light-bulb had cracked, and was spewing hot sparks, most being harmlessly put out in the carpet or desk it was on. With a loud crackle, the shade burst into flame and Belia's auburn hair caught on fire. She screamed and I looked around for something to put it out.

The open part of my chest was empty, drained of my anger. And as soon as the flame had started, it went out. And all that was left were tiny soot stains on the carpet and the faintest smell of burned hair and chicken that was probably lunch. "Ariadne." She whispered in a voice that were not her own.

Belia glared at me like this was all my fault. I was now more surprised than angry, and stood petrified. Because in the briefest moment, I had wanted to _hurt_ Belia for ridiculing me. I shook in my uniform and watched as she marched away to lunch, everyone else in tow. Did I do that? I wondered, still frightened as I watched steam curl off of the pale shade. It didn't seem impossible, but magic was nonexistent. At least, that was what our Sunday pastor taught us. Maybe I had a gift from God, I thought to myself. This made me feel better for only an instant, because blessings were meant to save, not to harm.

I shakily disposed the useless lamp and picked the black soot out of the thick carpet. As I walked down to lunch, no one looked at me. I picked at my mashed potatoes and barely thought it strange that Belia's hair was not even burnt and she carried a subtle scent of fried chicken that she wore on her body like perfume.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Now, I was thirteen, alone, among whatever insects hid in the bush where I hid. The front gate creaked open, and I scooted around the corner, watching through the front garden as a stranger walked up the sidewalk lined with roses and scraggly weeds. For a second, he turned my way, and I crouched low under the bushes and peered at his feet from under the roses. He coughed and I heard the large wooden door creak as he entered the orphanage.

Curious. He wore a sharply-pressed pinstriped suit and sported a large, thunder-cloud gray beard. But the stranger had come at midday Saturday, when most businessmen (supposing he _was_ a businessman) worked. Perhaps he was a lawyer. _Hmmmm._

I ran in the building, opening the back door quietly and sneaking up the stairs when our kitchen cook, Mistress Iris, turned around the wash a bowl of apples. Creeping silently, I avoided the creaky stairs and nimbly ran to the third landing, opening the door to my room. Belia and Lila were sitting on the carpets, reading books banned from our school. They glanced up when I walked in, but didn't even try to hide the books.

Only us three were left in our age group. They were both fifteen. I was younger. Lila was nice enough, but willing to be pulled in any direction by Belia. She flashed a glance at Belia before giving me a quick smile and gazing back at her book. But Belia's cold eyes were still focused on me. Lila bit her lip, wondering if she should say something, then decided against it. When the lunch bell rang, she tore out of the room, shoving the book under her bunk and almost flew down the stairs.

I averted my gaze and was just about to leave when Belia's voice stopped me. "Where've you been, little girl?" I flinched and turned to leave. She flicked the pages of her novel and stood. "Burning yourself more lamps?"

My voice was shaky. I managed to mumble, "you're insane," when she gripped my wrist, hard. Belia came closer. We were about the same height.

"I know what you are," she hissed. Her breath stank, like rotten garbage. I wondered if she brushed her teeth. I squirmed and tried to free my wrist, but her nails felt like claws hooked into my arm. "Don't think you can win. This war isn't over _yet_." She unlatched her arm and strolled down the steps, leaving me quaking in my boots. I wasn't sure what she was talking about. But I was almost certain I was going to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"This, ladies, is Mr. Zeus," Mistress Carol said, gesturing to the tall man standing stiff in the dining room. We seated, facing him and Mistress at the head of the table. He blinked. His voice was loud, not in volume, but in _mass_, if that means anything to you.

"Hello," he boomed. I shivered and rubbed my arms. Mr... what was it? Oh, right. Mr. _Zeus_'s voice made my skin creep like thousands of tiny spiders were biting my body. I struggled to explain it. He felt...different. His mere presence was out of the mundane. It was like if you are in a pitch-black room, you can _always_ know if someone else is there. Not by their breathing or smell or vibrations from movement, or whatever. It was closest to body heat; an aura, a mere feeling that cloaks a person and follows it wherever they go. His radiated power like a heater. It was on the verge of suffocating me.

"I am picking a set of you girls," he was saying, "to come to New York with me on an academic trip to tour the city and," he paused and looked around. His dark eyes narrowed onto me. "To discover yourself." I shivered uncomfortably. It was like lightening flashed behind that gaze.

The others twitted excitedly in earnest. This would be a chance to leave; to finally explore somewhere interesting and new and different. To get away from _here_. My heart thudded. It would be so amazing; meeting new people, new friends who _didn't _call me a jinx or witch. But then I remembered this was an _academic_ activity. And my grades weren't necessarily...the _best_. I stooped into the back of my seat and watched Belia flip her bright hair proudly. She was an A+ student. Rolling my eyes, I decided I didn't even _want_ to go. Sorting people by how _smart_ they were. Overrated.

Mr. Zeus spoke again. "After reviewing your school reports and behavioral history, you're Mistress," he gestured to her, who blushed, tinting her thin cheeks red, "has composed a list of five of you to join me." Mistress Carol, who's cheeks were still rosy, fumbled with her dress pocket, pulling out a torn piece of notebook paper. She coughed before she started reading.

The first name didn't surprise me at all. "Belia." She flashed a smug smile and mouthed two words at me from across the table. _Little witch._ I looked away at a tear in the blood-red tablecloth in front of me. "Helena." The little Asian girl grinned happily from the seat next to me, bouncing in excitement. "Samantha." I focused hard on the rip in the cloth. "Elizabeth." They squealed happily to each other. They were best friends. They would be happy on that trip together.

The others whose names hadn't been said yet were pale. They all wanted to go; who didn't? Some even clenched the table cloth or wrung out their hands nervously in their laps. Eight-year-old Alice was biting her fingernails. For the briefest moment, my heart skipped a beat. Maybe it _would_ be me. Maybe I _could _go to New York. In a flash, I saw myself, laughing with my new best friend. We sat on a bench together. She was allergic to peanuts like me. And she didn't know about my fire or deception or _past._ I'd meet other new people too and shed my old life like a bird molts its feathers.

"Lila." I blinked. Lila gasped and hugged Belia who half-heartedly hugged her back, then pushed her away in annoyance. _Lila._ She had said _Lila_. Lila the wishy-washy bubblehead. Not Ariadne. _Lila_. I felt Belia's eyes on me. I imagined them, glinting with smugness, so happy that she won and I lost. Again. Again and again and again. So many times she won. The familiar part of my chest threatened to open, fill with my flame, burn those auburn locks. They would look so beautiful, dancing among the light of my fire. But I stifled the feeling, killing the part of me who desired her pain. I had been practicing. Dousing the flame felt almost familiar by now.

My insides were crying, disappointed and simply sad at the unfairness. I wanted to cry, to shout, to singe the edges of Mistress's dress. Not too much to burn, but just enough to make her scream in panic. The thought was so delicious, I smiled. Then I cried out inside again. This wasn't her fault. This was no one's fault. They don't deserve to be hurt. But I still felt a pang of disappointment and longing. I could've been so close to a new beginning. My chest closed again, wilting like a dying flower until finally closing, dry and desolate.

I sighed to myself quietly. Everyone else was talking to Mr. Zeus and Mistress, asking questions, wondering if they would reconsider, crying about unfairness. Knowing my thoughts were devoid of any harm to anyone else, I carefully willed the space in my chest to open. I let only positive thoughts flow. It was difficult, controlling the negative wishing to enter, but I brushed them aside. In front of my eyes, the cut slowly, slowly stitched itself back together. Loose fibers reached across, latching onto the fabric on the other side of the laceration. I lost myself within the magic. It was slow, delicate, with tiny bits of thread crossing in layers and layers until finally it filled the rip. The cloth was seamless.

I couldn't will myself to be happy at my success. This was the biggest form of magic I had tried so far. Deciding I wouldn't risk my other, not-so-good emotions enter the cavity, I let it close as it did automatically unless I willed it not to. I made my way through the throng of girls and Mr. Zeus, who peered at me with his grey eyes as I passed. Climbing upstairs and into my bunk, I was too tired to think about New York.

But when I dreamed, I was sitting with a girl with light hair in New York. When she said something funny, I laughed out loud and realized that was the first time I did in a long time.


End file.
